


come settle down.

by shamusiel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (rolls up my sleeves and puts my trans boy yuuri hc to good use), Anxiety, Canon Universe, M/M, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, brief and vague sex idk it's like a paragraph long, i hope no1 sees my browsing history and asks about all the webpages about pregnancy, i needed more dad viktuuris so, yuuri's 9 month long anxiety attack: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamusiel/pseuds/shamusiel
Summary: He figures out quickly what it is. When the period doesn’t come, when his chest feels far too sensitive and heavy, the persistent nausea, how his sense of smell heightens and every scent is suddenly dizzying. It’s just that he’s having a hard time processing that it’s actually happening.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place a little over two years after where the anime left off. starts in the off-season of 2019. just to avoid confusion! also they got married. title is from 'technicolour beat' by oh wonder. :)c

It happens during the off-season.

That’s usually when Yuuri stops his testosterone for a few months **_(_** right after the Worlds are over with **_)_** , his body flushing out the hormones. Little changes in his body, how the fat redistributes and his period may kick in once more. Things he’s used to. Things he’s prepared for.

This? This is far from what he’s used to and what he’s prepared for.

At first he figured it might’ve been a stomach bug. Waking up with a foul taste in his mouth, his husband waking up to the sound of him retching into the toilet while he keeps a white-knuckled grip on the seat. Pre-menstrual cramping is out of the question, he does feel the stabbing pain similar to it in the small of his back but the most bleeding he has is tiny spots in his underwear.

The nausea lingers.

He figures out quickly what it is. When the period doesn’t come, when his chest feels far too sensitive and heavy, the persistent nausea, how his sense of smell heightens and every scent is suddenly dizzying. It’s just that he’s having a hard time processing that it’s actually happening. It made sense, sort of. When the season ended and they had a few months to themselves, Yuuri and Viktor would make the most of it **_(_** not to say they weren’t _‘active’_ during the season, but they were usually too tired from the strenuous, daily training and competing out on the ice to do it often **_)_**. And without the testosterone in the way? There was little danger, so it _could_ happen.

Yuuri had a hell of a time hiding the multiple webpages he had open for a good few weeks from Viktor, who tended to be mindful of Yuuri’s privacy but couldn’t help his curiosity sometimes. Sites detailing the early signs of pregnancy, what to expect, what to do and what _not_ to do to decrease the risk of harming oneself and the baby.

The thought of going to the nearest pharmacy to pick up a pregnancy test is, well, _embarrassing_ as much as it’s _scary._ But Yuuri packs up the courage one day - when Viktor went off to meet Yakov at the rink to discuss things for the upcoming season - to trudge the few blocks from the apartment to a small drug store. The young woman behind the counter doesn’t even bat an eyelash as she scans the small box, shoves it into a little plastic bag while Yuuri swipes his card, and then he’s on his way. He knows he doesn’t need to use this because it’s damn well obvious what the answer will be.

It’ll be some reassurance it’s not a dream, at least.

But the ‘positive’ result only serves to make his anxiety skyrocket.

He spends the next hour sitting on the bathroom floor and crying.

It’s not… okay, it’s not like Yuuri doesn’t want kids. The thought of being a father had always been an appealing one, he had even casually spoken about it with Viktor once, but they never planned anything.

Everything hits him so fast, so sudden. Hundreds of thoughts swirling about in his head. He’ll have to take the season off, he knows that- probably the next, too. Actually, he may as well just end up _retiring._ He’s twenty-six now, it’s a good time to retire but he knows he’s capable of continuing another year or two. Viktor, now thirty, would’ve been his coach, his last season had been the one after Yuuri had won silver in the 2016 Grand Prix Final. He thought he’d get at least another season in before retiring. Now he’s probably going to be a parent and he didn’t even _plan_ on it.

 _What if I can’t handle it? What if I’m a bad parent? What if this makes Viktor angry? What if he won’t want it? What if he won’t want me?_ It’s hard to keep his breathing even and he finds himself falling fast into panic. It’s stupid to think Viktor would be anything but ecstatic - surprised, maybe, but he had made it clear he liked the idea of parenthood. Starting a family. But that little ever-present stupid irrational part of him still makes him doubtful. Still terrifies him.

Trembling fingers pick the test up from the tiles of the bathroom floor, he stares at the results for a few more long moments, then hurriedly does his best to dispose of it in a way his husband _won’t_ accidentally find it. _He’s going to find out eventually._ Makkachin, who had been whimpering and scratching at the door, eagerly noses and licks at Yuuri’s palm when he leaves the bathroom after washing his hands and face.

Later, when he’s sitting on the sofa scrolling through his phone, he cries again.

Five minutes later Viktor walks through the front door.

One second after that he hears the house keys hit the floor.

Three seconds after that Yuuri feels a light touch on his arm, a soft request of permission to hold him that he nods rapidly in response to, unable to find words. The embrace is so warm, it makes him feel safe. Safe enough that he feels he can freely hiccup and sob loudly, body shaking, lungs rattling with each breath while he noses into Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor doesn’t speak, he really only does if Yuuri makes it clear he wants him to, he just holds him and rubs soothing circles into his back with one hand.

Another trip to the bathroom is taken to wash his face, then they sink into the bathtub.

Viktor’s fingers rub pleasantly into his scalp as he lathers his dark hair with the floral-scented shampoo. It’s calming, he melts into it and almost dozes off. Yuuri’s eyelids are heavy. He’s been so much more tired recently. But the bouts of crying today, the stress, the emotional toll this is having on him only makes it worse. Viktor has still barely said anything outside of asking to hold him, then telling him to tip his head back so he can wash the shampoo out with the showerhead.

He doesn’t complain when Yuuri sags back against his chest. Just tugs him closer, nuzzling into the curve where his neck and shoulder meet. The silence is comfortable, but there’s still some sort of unspoken tension hanging in the air.

It ends up being _Yuuri_ that strikes up conversation with a little explanation, **“Bad anxiety day.”** Not a complete lie. Inwardly, he grimaces. It’s better to tell him as soon as possible, but he doesn’t know if he _can_ right now.

 **“Did something happen?”** Viktor hums, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

 **“No.”** He hates himself for lying so he quickly follows up with, **“Well- yes.”**

**“What is it?”**

**“I…”** Yuuri pauses, gazing down at the water a bit cloudy from the shampoo washed out a minute prior. His tongue feels dry. **“It’s complicated. I’ll tell you when I can. Later.”**

**“Later?”**

**“Later.”**

He turns his head just enough to offer a smile, one that is returned without hesitation.

**“Okay, Yuuri.”**

They remain in the tub for just a few more minutes, then decide to climb out before the water can get cold and before their skin can get pruny. Then they dry off, Yuuri slipping into pajamas because he knows he isn’t leaving the house again today. Dinner is leftovers. Yuuri finds he doesn’t have much of an appetite. The next two hours are spent on the sofa with Viktor talking casually about his day, fingers rubbing idly into Yuuri’s ankles as he’d propped his feet up in Viktor's lap while leaning back on one armrest. It’s relaxing, eases some of the tension in the muscles.

Then he insists Yuuri go to bed early. It’s almost nine in the evening. Outside of the bedroom door, Yuuri asks Viktor to come to bed early with him. Punctuates it with a breathy _‘please’_ and a light tug at the hem of his shirt. Their lips meet, then somewhere along the way he finds himself lying bare on his side, Viktor pressed flush against his back and sinking into his heat with each roll of his hips. An arm wrapped beneath Yuuri, one small breast squeezed and massaged in a callused palm. The other hand slipped between his thighs to rub practiced circles in time with every thrust. Then Yuuri in his lap, held securely around the waist with a strong arm and a hand gripping his thigh. Lips burning hot, breathing hard into each others mouths. Enthusiastic, eager, _needy_ until they both tip over the edge.

In the haze of the afterglow, with Yuuri lying boneless and content beneath warm blankets, half his face pressed into the pillow, and Viktor’s arm around his middle, he hears his husband murmur, **“I love you, my Yuuri.”**

A soft hum is given in response, Yuuri wiggling closer. He wonders if Viktor had dismissed the subtle softening of his belly as just a bit of extra weight they’ll have to slim down soon. The thought doesn’t stick around long, because he falls asleep soon enough.

The next day, making a doctor’s appointment without rousing suspicion is even more difficult. He doesn’t even know how he does it. Tells Viktor it’s just for a check-up and while Viktor seems incredulous he doesn’t press further.

He hates that he cries again in the doctor’s office a few days later. Then again when he gets the results back two days after _that_  because, fuck, he really is pregnant. There’s no way he can deny it. No way he can hide it. It takes a lot for him to calm down, stop the tears, put on a brave face that immediately disappears the moment Viktor comes home because all of Yuuri’s resolve crumbles right then and there. Papers are shoved into Viktor’s hands and Yuuri flees to the bathroom, leaving his husband standing there wide-eyed, not entirely sure what just happened.

It feels like it takes too long before Yuuri hears footsteps in the hallway. He sits in the bathroom with his back pressed to the door he made sure to lock. Yuuri doesn’t know if he can face Viktor right now. Maybe Viktor will be angry at Yuuri for keeping it from him? The thought makes his chest tighten.

There’s a little knock.

Yuuri doesn’t respond.

A minute passes, but he knows Viktor’s still on the other side of the door.

 **“Yuuri.”** Viktor’s voice is muffled a bit through the door. **“Let me in. Please.”**

Still no response. It’s hard to even _think_ about talking to Viktor, looking him in the eye, seeing his expression.

There’s a little sigh. One he’s used to hearing. One Viktor gives when Yuuri gets like this. When he panics, closes off, runs, hides. When he won’t speak to Viktor. It's not an angry sound. Just exasperated. He’s gotten much better at handling Yuuri’s anxiety within the past few years at least. He still flounders often, but he’s learning not to push so much and just _listen_ and _wait._

Viktor lingers outside further, then murmurs loud enough for Yuuri to hear, **“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be in the living room.”**

Is he ever going to be ready? He might as well just live in this bathroom forever so he doesn’t have to face his husband. _He’s mad at me._ That’s his first thought. The lump in his throat is hard to swallow, Yuuri has to fight back the next wave of hot tears stinging the corners of his eyes but it's in vain. He removes his glasses and wipes at his eyes angrily with his sleeves, sniffling miserably. God, he probably looks _disgusting_ right now. Throat and cheeks blotchy, eyes red-rimmed and watery, nose beginning to run. Why did he have to be an ugly crier? It’s not fair. Viktor looked pretty even when he cried. He always looked pretty. Yuuri huffs, draws his knees up to his chest to bury his face in them. _Stupid Viktor._

Okay, maybe he’s being a little unfair here with calling him stupid. Yuuri kept Viktor in the dark for weeks then just kind of sprung it up on him by shoving blood test results and sonogram image into his hands then bolting. If Viktor’s angry, he has a right to be. It wasn’t fair to keep it from him until now. He’s probably trying to wrap his mind around it still. Yuuri still hasn’t, not completely.

It takes him fifteen minutes to stand on shaky legs, wash his face, place his glasses back on, then inhale deeply before he unlocks the door and creeps out into the hallway. It’s too quiet, he hears the TV in the living room but it’s so quiet it might as well just be on mute. Yuuri takes a step towards the living room, then hesitates. Even if he opts to just hide in bed he’ll have to face Viktor in the morning, there will be no running away from that. So he trudges out.

When he sees Viktor hunched over on the couch, papers in hand and none of his attention on the television screen, he feels his heart lurch. He can’t see Viktor’s face, so he can’t even guess what he might be feeling from his expression alone. Yuuri quietly, nervously, shuffles around to sit at one end of the couch. As far from Viktor as he can get. The tension in the air is suffocating.

 **“Pregnant,”** Viktor breaks the silence. Yuuri jolts in surprise which exacerbates the dull pain forming in his lower abdomen. He winces.

**“... Yes.”**

**“You’re pregnant,”** he repeats, slowly.

**“Y-yes.”**

**“You’re…”**

**“... pregnant. Yes. I am.”**

Viktor looks up but he doesn’t seem angry. He looks bewildered, certainly, yet there’s an emotion he can’t read in the depths of his blue eyes as he stares at Yuuri, who shrinks in on himself. Like he’s waiting for the sofa to just swallow him whole. Viktor teases his bottom lip with his teeth, then says, **“How long?”**

**“Th- thirteen weeks. Second trimester.”**

Viktor doesn’t respond, just looks back down at the paper in his hand. Yuuri screws his eyes shut.

**“I- I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I know you were working so hard to create routines for me and assignments are in two weeks and we were going to start training in a few days. Now it was just a waste of time and effort. I'm so stupid. I screw everything up. I’m sorry. I’m so-”**

**“-Yuuri.”**

He startles again. When he opens his eyes, Viktor’s closer to him. Looking right at him. Lifting a hand carefully, slowly, giving Yuuri enough time to move away if he wants to. But he doesn’t, allowing Viktor to remove his glasses. Then he moves his hand again, Yuuri remaining still yet tense. He lets a warm palm settle on his cheek and the callused pad of a thumb brush away the little tears that began to form. Then all the air he had been holding comes rushing out at once. **“I’m sorry. This is- this is… so… inconvenient. For you. For-”**

 **“This is far from an inconvenience to me, Yuuri.”** That shuts him up immediately. The softness of Viktor’s voice, how tenderly he rubs along his cheekbone with his thumb then tucks a lock of his shaggy hair behind his ear. He lets Viktor draw him into a careful, warm embrace. The gears in his brain slowly begin to turn once more, but he can’t bring himself to speak yet. There’s a palm at the small of his back that rubs slowly into the skin through his shirt, fingers pressing into the muscle. Yuuri gives a pleased sigh. He hadn’t noticed the ache in his back until now. It had been subtle, easy enough to overlook.

**“I just wish you'd told me sooner.”**

**“I’m sorry.”**

**“... Though, in hindsight, the signs were all there. Maybe I should’ve noticed long before now.”**

Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. He just buries his face into Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor continues massaging into the muscle of his back for the next minute. When he draws back Yuuri still can’t bring himself to look at him. He keeps his gaze cast downward, watching as Viktor’s fingers hesitate at the bottom of his shirt. Yuuri knows well enough what he wants to do. It makes his shoulders relax just a bit, the beginnings of a smile at his lips. **“Go ahead.”**

The permission obviously gives his husband some relief. With how he tugs Yuuri’s shirt up immediately, though slowly, he thinks Viktor might even be a little _eager._ When Viktor’s attention is turned to his belly, Yuuri lets himself watch his face. His reactions as he moves his palm over the warm skin, beginning to grow a little taut but the outward curve of his abdomen is hardly noticeable. Viktor’s eyes are glittering, lips parted, cheeks dusted pink. It’s a look of _wonder._ Of  _amazement._  Then suddenly, without warning, he’s slipping down so he can press his face to Yuuri’s belly with arms winding around his hips to draw him closer.

**“Viktor--!”**

**“My baby,”** his husband mumbles. **“My baby. With Yuuri. Our baby.”**

Viktor nuzzles in further and Yuuri finally melts. Viktor with his face pressed to his belly, silver bangs tickling against his sensitive skin, and Yuuri's heart flutters. Fingers find themselves in that silver hair, carding through it gently, most of his fears chased away but that ache of anxiety remains in his chest. There’s still a lot to talk about. It’ll be a hassle to get his name off the ISU’s roster for the Grand Prix at such short notice. They still don’t know what’ll become of Yuuri’s career _after_ the baby is born. Yuuri has another doctor’s appointment in three days, one he knows he’ll need to bring Viktor along with him. To discuss what he’ll need to do, medication to take due to the testosterone in his body. He was told not to go in for any of his testosterone shots, it would be fatal for the child. And due to the amount of hormones already present, he’d need to put in extra effort into keeping the child - and himself - safe and healthy.

It’ll all bring about more anxiety, he knows. An unplanned pregnancy, so they’ll have to rush to prepare. Things to buy for the child, how to even take care of a baby in the first place, how Viktor’s going to be taking care of a pregnant and cranky Yuuri for the next five months. Doctor’s appointments. Checkups. It’ll be tiring, stressful, he knows there will be arguments but they’ll make up later like they always do.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by something warm and wet against his skin.

Yuuri blinks three times, focusing back on the current moment, down to Viktor whose face is still concealed against his belly. The hand that had been slowly combing through his hair pauses. Then he pokes the whorl of Viktor’s hair gently.

Watery blue eyes snap up to meet his. Of _course_ Viktor’s still pretty right now with tears dripping off the ends of his lashes. Yuuri wouldn’t expect anything less. But Viktor sniffles, then flings himself forward.

 **“Yuuuuri!”** He sobs. Yuuri squawks in surprise as he’s latched onto rather tightly. Viktor rubs his wet cheek against his. **“That’s my baby… I’m going to be a father! Both of us... Yuuuriii…”**

A loud wheeze is enough to let Viktor know to loosen his grip. Then he leans in for a kiss, and Yuuri gladly meets him halfway.

 

* * *

 

The next few months are… well, they’re definitely a ride. Scrambling to set up a nursery in the guest room, combing through the internet for hours to figure out how to take care of a newborn and what they'll need for one. They know it’ll be difficult, neither have really had much experience with handling babies. They’ll both be nervous wrecks. Yuuko was happy to offer some advice the moment it got to his family, and inevitably his friends, that he was expecting. Her first - and only - pregnancy had resulted in triplets, after all. She was probably more exhausted than Yuuri will be. Phichit blew up his phone, demanding frequent photos be sent to him over the course of the pregnancy and how he _better_ be the godfather. Even _Yurio_ seemed a bit excited, but the now-eighteen-year-old did his best to be nonchalant. He won’t be around for the most of the pregnancy, busy competing in the Grand Prix then the Russian Nationals. Maybe he’ll catch the last few weeks.

Yuuri complains. A lot. He eats even more. Viktor tries to keep him from watching the competitions on television because he knows it’ll just make Yuuri depressed, mopey, weepy. Then he’ll get cranky. Then he’ll start crying about how he’ll be an awful parent and how he looks and feels horrible and that he doesn’t know why Viktor even deals with him, that he’s not worth all this love and attention. How Viktor even keeps his patience most times during the rest of the pregnancy is a mystery, but impressive all the same. Maybe he’s just too tired to get frustrated. But he does his best to keep Yuuri happy and safe, even if he’s clumsy with it, and at the end of the day even if Yuuri was angry with him earlier, he’s always happy to crawl into his husband’s arms under the blankets. Always happy to let Viktor rub his hands over his swollen belly, murmuring in both English and Russian to it, laughing in the event he’ll feel movement beneath his palm.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri’s labor starts just two weeks earlier than expected. It's fine the first day, but by the second he already needs to be brought into the hospital. The contractions are awful. His anxiety and panic makes it last longer than it may have been. Even with Viktor brushing his hair back with his hand, murmuring soothingly to him, he couldn't properly relax until three hours of panic and pain tires him out enough that he just focuses on the tiles of the ceiling. Eleven hours of active labor, but another hour for the baby to be pushed out.

He’s too tired to think properly. All he can do is continue to stare at the ceiling, vision blurred, barely registering the high-pitched cries of a newborn and how Viktor’s grip on his hand tightens just slightly. The midwife says something to his husband in Russian, so Yuuri can’t really understand - but even if it were in English he probably wouldn’t have processed it anyway. He finally comes to when gentle fingers brush aside his hair from his sweaty face, Viktor leaning over to give him a smile.

Yuuri is given the child first - a little boy - to keep against his chest. He’s small and warm in the blanket, soft and red-faced, thin strands of dark hair on the top of his head. So focused on the child, he doesn’t even flinch when he finishes the last stage of labor to push the placenta out. Honestly, even with the blood and amniotic fluid on his thighs and soaking into towels beneath him, he'd be fine with just falling asleep there with the child held close to him. Viktor’s breath is soon against his ear however, so he does his best to remain awake.

 **“I’m so proud of you,”** he murmurs. Yuuri hears the watery edge to his voice. Viktor bumps his nose against his cheek, then peers down at the child clutched carefully against his husband’s chest. There’s a grin tugging at his lips. It's so bright, so full of love. When Viktor brushes the back of one finger down the newborn's face, the child crinkles his nose briefly.  **“Both of you, actually.”**

 **“He’s strong,”** Yuuri mumbles.

**“Like you.”**

**“Mmm.”**

**“He’ll probably be just as stubborn.”**

**“For your sake, I hope not.”**

He hears Viktor laugh quietly, then sniff.

 

* * *

 

They name him Dmitry. Born on December 25th, just like his father who beamed wide when he came to the realization. Turning thirty-one had evidently been the last thing on his mind.  _The best birthday gift!_ Viktor had declared, and he had meant it.

And as he grows he blossoms into such a beautiful little child. With messy black hair and a soft face, but bright blue eyes and a smile shaped just like a heart. The first time they let him on the ice is on his sixth birthday **_(_** which is also Viktor's thirty-seventh  ** _)_**.

Dmitry  _is_  just as stubborn as Yuuri, because he demands for his fathers to let go of his hands because _‘I can do it by myself!’_ just like he does with so many other tasks.

He falls a lot, but before either of them can rush over he pushes himself back up onto wobbly legs. Every single time. It reminds Yuuri of himself, how hard he had pushed himself during his career until he was sure his body would give out. How he refused to let himself give up when given the right push. Maybe Dmitry will have an interest for going into figure skating. When the child can finally find his balance, stand up properly while keeping his arms outstretched on either side of him, he grins triumphantly at his parents with eyes sparkling.

Then he falls over again with a thump and an _‘oof.’_

... Well, it's always good to count the little victories.

Yuuri helps him back up this time even though Dmitry pouts the whole while and refuses to meet his eyes. Viktor stands behind him, humming, **“I told you he’d be stubborn.”**

**“Like me.”**

**“Like you.”**

He fixes Dmitry’s scarf while he asks, **“Your patience knows no bounds, huh?”**

To which Viktor replies with, **“Just for you two.”**

It’s met with a snort. Yuuri takes his son’s small hand in his again, Viktor moving to the boy's opposite side to take his other hand. They’re quiet for another minute as they guide Dmitry across the ice. Then Viktor can't help but speak again.

**“That’s not to say you aren’t a handful.”**

**“Takes one to know one.”**

But Yuuri smiles. He glances down at the child between them, then up at Viktor who is laughing as his son stumbles a little, and the boy is offended just for a moment before he breaks out into giggles too.

It was worth it.

This is better than any gold medal could be.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u guys enjoyed 4k+ words of this bullshit i didnt mean for it to get past like, 1k (sets myself on fire)
> 
> dialogue is bolded so it's easier to pick out from prose btw
> 
> pls come scream at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/yuurigif) (preferably) and [tumblr.](http://yuuriofficial.tumblr.com)


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